


Dead of Night

by nevereatdirt



Series: RVB Oneshots [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, i can't believe i'm the first one to post this shit i'm a goddamn ship captain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevereatdirt/pseuds/nevereatdirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Private Matthews watches his captain at night.  It isn't anything weird, really.  He just likes to make sure he's all right.  That he's protected.  Besides, what else can he do when he's nothing more than the kiss ass in his squad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead of Night

Watching his captain, which was something he'd started as a past time when he had the time, had turned into something like an obsession. The older man was someone he looked up to and, while he could see his faults, he didn't care about them all that much. To Matthews Dexter Grif was amazing. He was braver than the men he knew in his platoon and he'd done _so fucking much_. He'd help to take down the Meta, after all. A former _freelancer_. That just seemed so fucking _cool_ to the young soldier.

What doesn't seem cool to him, though, is the way that he hears his captain muttering in his sleep at night. Or the way he'll wake up and look around like he's on edge. It only ever happens in the middle of the night, or so he's seen. Otherwise the older man tends to sleep as sound as anyone he's ever seen. But there are some nights, nights like these when the lights in their buildings need to stay on for safety and it's just so unbelievably _hot_ that his sleeping seems to be the worst.

He wakes up shouting and panting before pushing his messy hair back and falling back to sleep almost immediately. Matthews has seen this happen only because he's made himself the great man's personal guard at night. He isn't as needed as Bitters is during the day. He knows that. So he busies himself at night and in the evening and sometimes in the morning when he stayed up just a little too long to really feel good about sleeping.

Tonight feels different, though. Neither of them are in their armor, a strange phenomenon on any other day but it's just so hot. So fucking hot in the armor with the way it accommodates for the cool air in the barracks. Matthews feels _small_ and exposed like this. He doesn't like it.

This time instead of falling back to sleep, his captain is looking around the room with a look of scared and utter need. Matthews looks around the room as well, pushing his own messy, auburn hair back and out of his eyes as he pulls his rifle closer. He really does feel like a kid when the older locks eyes with him.

_But then he sees him smile_.

It's a smile Matthews has never had directed at him, but it's one that he's seen before. It's the look his captain has when he sees his friends. The look he has when he sees his favorite foods or drinks. The look he has when Bitters is just as exceptionally lazy as he expects him to be. It's pride. It's happiness. It's a look that makes his heart skip a beat before his pulse quickens.

Grif motions to him to come closer and he stands awkwardly from his post, moving over to him and just shaking. He's pulled into the bed and has to choice but to let his gun fall off, glad that he keeps the safety on until he needs to use it. Just like it says in the New Republic field manual, which he's read at least a dozen times now.

Even so, the thick arms around him and the solid mass against his slight frame feels strangely right. He's _dreamed_ of moments like this. Literally dreamed of them, not even day dreamed. He has to pinch himself to make sure he isn't asleep, but the only thing that feels strange is how his captain hasn't said anything yet. Wouldn't someone say something when they pull another into bed? The private wasn't sure, but the buzzing of the fluorescent lights keeps him from thinking much about it.

Especially when he feels lips on his.

Lips _so soft_ and chapped and wonderful that he can't help the soft little sound that leaves his throat. He smiles in the kiss and wraps his arms around the larger man with a contented hum. He's content just laying there but when his captain pulls away, what he mutters breaks his heart.

“You taste weird, Simmons.”

This isn't the first time his captain has called him Simmons. It shouldn't hurt him the way he does he knows, but... If he thinks that he's the maroon captain and has him pulled so close against him, then what could that mean? He knew that the two of them were close, but...

He doesn't let his thoughts go down that road. He _can't_ , really. All he wants is to taste and touch the other but knowing that his more than likely sleep addled mind thinks he's someone else... It hurts.

Clearing his throat, the young man speaks up. “Matthews, sir.” He leans into his lips again, feeling how plaint the older man was against him for just a moment before realization set in.

“Wait... Matthews?” The way his eyes seem to come into focus and realization seems to dawn on him makes the young man just pull away.

Grabbing his gun he heads for the door and looks over his shoulder. “Goodnight, sir. I'll be out here if you need me.” He leaves the room, slumping down against the wall and holding his head in his hands.

Of _course_ he'd been half asleep. In a sleepy haze Matthews _knows_ he could be confused with Simmons. If only at a distance or if the person would _want_ him to be the other man. He sits in silence, unsure as to how much time has passed when the barrack lights finally shut off. He can hear a team returning, loud voices as they walk down the hall and whoops of excitement. Something good must have happened, but he can't focus on that.

He stays quiet even when the other soldiers wander past him and he can _hear_ them talking about him. Something about the orange team kiss ass and his crush. He's long since grown used to it, though. Long since told himself that it means nothing. But with the feeling of lips still lingering on his own and the feeling of thick arms still like ghosts on his skin, it's harder to believe that.

When finally the soldiers have passed, he hears the creak of a nearby door and doesn't even look up when he feels someone sit beside him.

“Matthews.” His captain's voice makes his stomach tighten into a knot and he pulls his gun tight to his chest almost like it's a safety blanket.

“Sir.” His voice is strained when he speaks and the tone makes it evident that he'd been crying at some point since he left the room. He has to tell himself that he's fine. That his captain doesn't even remember what happened and that he's just more surprised by him not being in the room.

'So you're just gonna act like that wasn't a thing that happened, huh?” Matthews looks up from the floor and watches as his captain stares at the other wall.

“That was my plan, yes sir.” He holds onto his gun tightly still and looks away again. He can't stand to watch him even if he's acting so normal with all of this. Maybe it's the difference in their ages making it harder on Matthews, or maybe it really is just hard in general.

A sigh escapes the captain and Matthews tenses when he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You're a fucking idiot you know, Matthews?”

“What...?” He's used to being called a kiss ass and a nerd by the other, but an _idiot_ was definitely new.

There's a firm squeeze before the hand pulls away, leaving Matthews feeling empty and almost used somehow. But then a soft punch to his shoulder makes him look back at his captain. “I said you're a fucking idiot.” He huffs, arm going around the slighter man's shoulders and making Matthews shake some with the contact. “You didn't even stick around to talk to me.”

“I didn't want to.” He admits it easily, though he mutters the confession. “...sir.” He adds the last word as a second thought, pulling his knees up to his chest with a sigh.

“Shit, Matthews, you're making me feel like an asshole here.” The younger man looks up, noting the frown on his captain's face and the heavy bags under his eyes. It isn't a look that suits someone who's usually so laid back, he thinks. And he's starting to feel bad. Almost like the lack of sleep the other gets in the night is because of him, even if his captain is saying that he feels bad as well.

“Sir...?”

“Enough with the sir shit, okay? I'm just a dude and you're just a dude. Come on. Let's go back into my room so I'm not in my fucking pajamas out here.” He stands, offering a hand to the other before leading him into his quarters.

Matthews stands awkwardly, gun still held to his chest and shoulders tense as he looks around. This isn't the first time he's been in the room. It isn't even the hundred and first.

But it is the first time he's been invited in.

So many nights spent watching the other man and this is the first he's really seen him awake in his space. The way he leans back on his hands and stares up from the bed makes the young man feel like this is a mistake.

“How many nights have you been in here, Matthews?”

“...since you'd picked Lieutenant Bitters for your special unit.”

His thick eyebrows raise and Matthews still feels so tense. He'd do anything to make this man happy, but just from the way he's being asked how many nights he's been in the room... It's obvious that he hasn't noticed or remembered the younger man being there. Matthews feels his chest tighten even more and he hangs his head, hoping that it all just happens fast. Like ripping off a bandage.

But the silence _lingers_ like a miasma in the room, unwilling to be sucked through the vents and making everything feel almost stagnant.

He isn't sure just how long he's been waiting again, but eventually his captain stands and draws nearer to him. Matthews stares down at the older man before the gun is pulled from his hands and tossed aside to land in a pile of laundry and snack wrappers. Shaking, he grips the fabric of his shirt and continues to wait. The silence between them is palpable now and he's starting to feel like Grif is doing this on purpose.

“Why.”

The word is so uncharacteristically quiet that Matthews almost misses it, but he's left staring into hazel eyes that have somehow come much closer than he'd noticed. “What?” He lets the word out in confusion, knowing what's been said, but not understanding what the _why_ is being directed at.

“I fucking said _why_ , Matthews. I'm a goddamn space marine I don't need some kid to babysit me in the middle of the night.”

“I know you don't, sir, I just...”

“Just what? Wanna kiss my ass even more and be some big hero if someone attacks me?”

“No, I just... I...” He looks away, trying to figure just what it was that brought him back every night. It wasn't wanting to kiss ass, really. Or... It probably wasn't. He really _does_ care about his captain. In fact he has the _utmost_ faith in the man standing before him.

“Well, Matthews?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I just wanted to help. I'm a _soldier_ , sir. I can...”

“Can what? Get yourself killed trying to save my fat ass? From tonight on you're done with guard duty, private.”

Being called private stings the younger man and he has to hold that back. He's only been called _private_ by his captain a handful of times and each time he's had Bitters there to speak up in his defense. “Yes sir...” His words are half mumbled as he looks away, feeling less and less like he's actually a needed part of their team.

“For fuck's sake, I said enough of that _sir_ bullshit already.”

His brow furrows and he lets out a little huff, looking back at his captain with a frown. “You called me private. I figured it was paying due respect.”

“Yeah? Well I don't _want_ any respects here. I just wanna be the guy that gets to lay around and eat Oreos all day again, but life's a fucking bitch.”

“Is there a point to this sir? I feel like I should probably go back to my quarters.”

“Nope. You don't get to go anywhere until you tell me the exact fucking reason you've been watching me sleep for like a whole fucking year.”

“I... I don't know. I just wanted to help. I'd... I'd do anything for you, sir.” He sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat and his head hanging.

“ _Anything_?”

Matthews swallows thickly as Grif speaks, nodding with the word. “Yes, sir.” His voice is soft and he can't help but to look away. Just from the _tone_ of that word he can already see where his little admission is going to lead him.

Grif raises his hands in a gesture of something like mock surrender. “All right, all right. If you mean _anything_ then show me that you do.” He moves backwards and sits on the bed, the mattress making a strained squeak as his weight settles on it.

“What... What do you want me to do?”

He huffs and gives a little smirk, one thick brow raising as he speaks. “Shit dude you're the one that said anything. And you seemed pretty bummed that all we did was kiss.”

“You called me Simmons.” He points this out almost immediately. He feels like an idiot for pointing it out, especially with the fact that his captain is basically insinuating that they're going to _fuck_. But he's not going to just let that go, right?

A shrug of a shoulder and a face that says he doesn't really care are all Grif gives before speaking. “I was sleeping you know?”

“That just means that he's really who you want to do that with, though.”

Grif stares at the younger man, a grimace of disbelief on his face. “You're a romantic aren't you?”

“What?”

“Like you're one of those kids that grew up reading all these love stories and shit about everyone having like their _one_ or whatever?”

He chews at his lip, shifting from foot to foot nervously as he looks around. “I guess? I dunno I just...”

“You keep saying that you _just_. I'm starting to feel like you don't know what the fuck you want, Matthews.” He laughs, the sound reverberating in the otherwise quiet room.

“I know what I want!” The response comes faster than Matthews would like and he feels like it makes him sound like a little fucking kid.

“Then tell me.” The words come like a challenge right along with a grin and Grif leans back on his hands some. “Tell me what you want without just trailing off.”

His grin makes Matthews falter and he can't help but to just keep his eyes on the other man. He really _does_ know what he wants, and in this case it's, well... “It's you, sir. I want you.”

He knows that he shouldn't have said that. He can feel his legs shaking and his heart beating far faster than it should and all he's waiting for is for his captain to laugh again. To mock him for having some stupid crush and to tell everyone in all the other squadrons about how he feels.

But it doesn't come.

Matthews stands there in silence and a look of disbelief stays on Grif's face until he finally speaks. “You're kidding, right?”

“No, sir.”

“You've been doing _all this shit_. Because you _want_ me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me say again, Matthews. You're a _fucking idiot_.” He pauses, eyes wandering over the younger man a moment. “You're lucky you're pretty.”

“Pretty?”

“Yeah, kiss ass. _Pretty_.” he laughs, motioning for Matthews to draw closer to him. “Now come on, I wanna see what this _anything_ is supposed to be.”

Looking around the room like there has to be someone, _anyone_ , else that his captain could mean in the room before looking back to face the other. “You're just fucking with me aren't you?”

“Well not yet, Matthews. Dude your dick isn't even out yet there's no _fucking_ about this.”

The younger man furrows his brow and tilts his head. “You're just being an ass, sir.”

“I'm always an ass. And is this _sir_ shit going to keep going while we fuck I mean I guess that could be kinda fun but I can only handle so much shit in a day.” He lays back with a yawn and stretches on the bed. “Sides if you _really_ wanna do this, dude, we gotta go now. I'm feelin' kinda sleepy.” He teases from his place and Matthews finally just moves closer until he's next to the bed.

“You... Want me up here?”

“No I want you to get me another fucking burrito. Yeah I want you up here. Come on.”

Matthews laughs softly as he gets up on the bed, one knee on either side of the older man's legs. “Like this?”

“Yeah, like that. Now stop asking stupid questions.” He pulls him down a little, lips meeting in a soft touch.

This time Matthews has time to taste and touch the way he wants to, though he's still scared that his captain is just going to call him _Simmons_ again. He can't help the little smile that crosses his lips as he feels hands at his hips, or the very distinct taste of Oreos on his captain's lips. He had a feeling he'd probably have the lingering after taste of them but he hadn't thought about just how sweet he would really taste. Maybe when you literally only have the same thing every day you start to taste like it. He just doesn't know and he doesn't really _care_ with the soft movements of lips against lips.

With a soft little hum, he adjusts his weight on top of the older man, his hands resting on the other's chest as he moves. Grif huffs as Matthews moves, pushing him back a little. “Did I do something wrong sir?” His voice is pained, eyes wide as he stares down at the man beneath him.

“Nah, you're just sitting in a really weird spot. Move up a little.”

A tug to Matthews hips leads him up and he can't help the practical squeak that comes from him as he rests on what is very much obvious arousal. He stays still a moment, eyes still wide as he stares down at his captain, knowing that just from the fact he's literally sitting against his cock that things are taking a turn for the unexpected.

“What's the matter, Matthews? It's just a dick. We've both got one.” His hips move against the younger's ass and forces a soft yelp from him. Hand snapping over his own mouth, Matthews stares down. Cheeks red and eyes wide, he's starting to feel like maybe this _isn't_ a great idea even if he really does want this. “What? Never done this before?”

The smirk is more than apparent to the other and he can't help but to huff, giving Grif a solid push to the best of his abilities. “I've done this before! Just, you know. Never with you. Obviously.”

“Hey no obviously about it, dude, you could have taken advantage of me in my sleep.”

He laughs and hangs his head, shaking it as he does. “No I wouldn't do that.”

“Good I'd be pretty pissed if you did.” His eyebrows raise and his eyes dart over Matthews for a second before his hands move up, pulling at the soft fabric. “Now c'mon, get this off.” Fingers trail against his skin and Matthews can't help the little noise that escapes him, his eyes closing.

Maybe he's thought about his more than he should. Maybe he's imagined callous, mismatched hands touching him in not entirely appropriate ways. But what does that matter when those hands are actually on him? What does it matter when what's he's thought about happening for _so long_ is finally coming true? He swallows thickly, coming back to the moment and pulling off his shirt. He isn't entirely sure where to throw it, but he sees his gun nearby and throws it on top of it. That should be fine, he thinks.

A low whistle leaves Grif as his hands move along the soft, exposed musculature of the younger man. “Damn, dude. You didn't tell me you were actually in shape.” He snorts a laugh and Matthews just frowns.

“I'm a soldier, sir.”

“Yeah? Well so am I but I don't give a fuck about my shape.” He rolls his eyes, motioning to himself and Matthews just gives a little shrug.

“Well one of us has to, right?” He laughs this time, a smile on his face as he leans back some and moves against the half hardness beneath him. The reaction he earns makes him smile and he can't help but to do it again, this time adding just a little more pressure.

Grif groans as the young man rolls his narrow hips against him, one hand covering his face and the other resting on a hip with a squeeze. “You're a fucking tease, Matthews.”

“Maybe I am.” He grins, moving back against him again. “Sounds like you like it though, sir.”

Grif gives another groan with the movement and his hand squeezes at the younger man roughly, nails digging into the soft skin there. “Fucking _tease_.” He shakes his head, a smirk on his lips as he speaks.

Chewing at his lip, Matthews feels heat spreading over his cheeks though it doesn't stop his hands from snaking under the older man's shirt and brushing against his skin with gentle touches. He's more focused, really, on just experiencing what he can with the other. The soft swell of his stomach and the firmness of muscle under his touch makes him smile and he wiggles on top of the other man again. “Maybe I just want to make this last.”

“Yeah? Or maybe you're just taking advantage of me in my weakened state.”

“What weakened state, sir?”

Matthews stares down as Grif gives a little shrug. “It's the middle of the night, Matthews. I'm a tired middle aged fat dude.”

“Aren't you _always_ a tired middle aged fat dude though, sir?”

With the other's words, Grif huffs and flips the two of them over and forces a squeak out of Matthews. “You better watch your tongue, cause those are _fighting_ words.”

The younger man stares up, eyes wide with the large man now on top of him. His gaze darts about the other nervously, feeling much less in control with their positions swapped. “Well maybe I feel like fighting, sir.” His words are meant to sound confident as he speaks, but even he can hear the way his voice warbles in the middle of the statement.

Something like a smirk crosses the older man's face as he holds himself up on his elbows and his eyebrows raise. “You're really keeping up on being a soldier everywhere you go, huh, private?”

With the way the words leave his captain, Matthews can't help the shudder that runs down his spine. In any other scenario, on any other day, being called private would have ruined him. Though it still _does_ ruin him. But this time the pulling of rank feels more like an act of power play. With dominance being asserted and the other really acting like he was in control, Matthews feels like this is going to be the end of him. “Maybe I do, sir.” His words are soft, almost nervous, as he speaks and he can feel the flush still spreading over his cheeks as he thinks about just where this is going.

Grif laughs at the younger man's reaction, one hand moving to toy with the hem of his shirt. “I'll keep that in mind.” Moving the shirt up, the larger man traces his fingers along the smooth planes of skin and only stops when he starts to pull the shirt off entirely.

Wiggling a little, Matthews helps to get it off and shudders in the cool air of the room. With his shirt tossed out of the way, the young man feels exposed. More so than he already did without his armor. Now he's _truly_ half naked in front of his commanding officer and he knows that the older man can see the way his arousal strains against his fatigues. With rough hands trailing against his skin, another shudder wracks Matthews lithe body and he moves his hands to block out his face.

Almost as soon as he does, though, Grif takes him by the wrists and pulls his hands away with a huff. “Something wrong?”

“Just nervous, sir.”

Grif rolls his eyes and leans down, lips pressing to Matthews' in a soft kiss. “Well stop that. It's just sex, right? Nothing weird.” Clearing his throat Matthews can't help the way his face heats up and he looks away. Though with the reaction, realization dawns on the older man. “Oh my fucking god. Matthews have you seriously never fucking done this?”

“I have!” He looks away, cheeks warming as he mumbles almost to himself. “...mostly.”

“Okay, kid. There's no fucking _mostly_ here. Have you or have you _not_ fucked in the past?”

“I... Haven't, sir. I mean. Not all the way? I've messed around with people, though!”

Grif groans, rolling off the younger man and covering his face with his hands. “You know you're making it really fucking hard to want to keep going, right? You just keep reminding me that you're like sixteen.”

With a huff he furrows his brow and moves so that he's sitting on top of his captain again. “I'm nineteen!”

“What?”

“I _said_ , I'm nineteen. Sir.” He clears his throat, settling back on the older man's hardening cock and doing his best not to look uncomfortable.

“You know I'm literally old enough to be your dad, right? Like. Teen dad, but still old enough to be your father.”

“Do you really think that bothers me?”

Grif lets his hands slide down his face and fall to his sides. “It should.”

“Well it doesn't! I... Really respect and admire you, sir.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“And I'd... Really like it if we could keep going?” His eyes dart over the older man's face and he chews at his lip. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Matthews. We can keep going. You're already grinding on my cock I kinda figured you wanted to keep going.” Grif smirks up at him, hands finding a place on the lithe man's hips. “You'll need some shit from my nightstand, though. Top drawer.”

Rolling off the other he reaches for the drawer and his face flushes at the sight of lube and condoms. “I've never seen you use these sir.”

“Fucking good. No reason for you to even know that shit was in there. I'm amazed you never saw shit happen in all the nights you watched me, though.”

Shrugging, Matthews started pulling off his pants and briefs, tossing them aside to join the pile his gun had landed in. “I'm a good guard, sir.”

“You're a fucking kiss ass.” Grif huffs, sitting up just enough to pull off his own shirt and just letting it fall where it will.

Rolling his yes, Matthews moves back to sit on the older man's thick thighs. His hands trail down the soft expanses of mismatched skin. “Maybe I am, but you like the attention.” Leaning down, he presses a trail of light kisses against the other's skin until he reaches the top of his pajama pants. Shaking, he pulls them down some and swallows thickly as he stares at the bulge in his captain's boxers.

“Yeah I kinda do. So are you showing me that _anything_ you were talking about earlier now, private?”

Nodding, Matthews rubs idly through the fabric and earns a low groan from his captain. “Yes, sir.” The words are soft as he continues brushing along the length before reaching for the lube.

Continuing his movements he opens the bottle with one hand before stopping, only to spread some over his fingers. It isn't like he hasn't touched himself before. In fact he's gone through this part more recently than he'd like to admit, but still he knows he needs to do this. Fingers slick he lifts his hips and starts to stretch himself slowly.

He can feel Grif's eyes on him. The attention almost more than he can handle, but still he goes on. The slight sting from his finger cedes and he lets out a soft sigh as he feels himself adjust. With the momentary relief he adds his second finger and hangs his head. He hadn't expected the night to go this way. Hadn't expected the first kiss or the second and he certainly hadn't expect to be fucking himself on his fingers on top of his captain. Though as he moves, he watches as Grif picks up the bottle himself and pulls his cock from its fabric confines.

Matthews whimpers as he watches the older man begin to touch himself. From the way his hand twists and tugs to the way he takes his lip between his teeth and the faint sheen of sweat appears on his brow. They've both remained remarkably silent, but Matthews doesn't mind. Talking at a time like this almost feels like it would be enough to make him stop even with the way he's been stretched.

When he feels he's ready, he stares down at Grif for a moment and just breathes in an attempt to catch the breath he'd lost. He moves forward, pushing the other's hand away from his cock to take it in his own. Still shaking, he slicks the older man's cock with the lube still on his hand and takes a deep breath before positioning himself above it. Sinking down, he lets out a long, low moan and lets his eyes flutter shut.

He'd never taken more than a few of his own fingers before, and the feeling of _heat_ and being _stretched_ is more than he'd ever anticipated. But still he lets himself get used to the feeling. Deep breaths and hands resting against the other's stomach keep him from just pulling off and running away. Though he has to admit, feeling hands resting on his hips and the way his captain is breathing makes the slight bit of pain more than worth it.

He isn't sure how long he's been sitting there when Grif squeezes his hips. “Are you going to move or do I have to flip us over again?” His voice is raw and that simple fact makes Matthews feel a little better. If his _captain_ is winded just from being inside of him then he has to be enjoying this at least a little... Right?

Right.

He takes a deep breath before rolling his hips slowly, the movement more experimental than anything. Another squeeze to his hips tells him that Grif at the very least is enjoying this. He's still more than a little uncomfortable as he finds the thickness of being stretched and filled unfamiliar, though not entirely unwelcome. He adjusts slowly with a deep breath until he finds a position that doesn't leave him feeling so uncomfortable.

Shaking still, Matthews continues to move as Grif's hands travel from his hips up his body. The feeling of thick, calloused fingers running over his skin makes the younger man shudder and his own hands grip futilely at the other's soft belly. Each movement forces a whining keen from Matthews, especially when one of the calloused hands finds its way to his aching prick.

With shallow, rocking movements he isn't sure whether he should move against Grif's cock or hand. The indecision leads him to let out soft mewls, though a hand on his hip helps to guide the movements.

“Easy does it. This is about feeling good, not going fast.”

Opening his eyes slowly, Matthews can't help but to smile as his captain smiles up at him. He's wanted to know this touch for so long that he's overwhelmed by every sensation. His trembling stops as his back arches with an almost overpowering orgasm. He knew that he wasn't going to last long, but he'd thought that he'd at least make it more than a minute. Still he stays in his place and lets out loud cries with each movement of Grif's hand or his hips, more than oversensitive from his climax.

He can hear laughter bubbling from his captain as he does his best to keep moving on his length despite how spent he feels, but it doesn't keep him from stopping. Leaning back some he does his best to make the older man gasp and beg, and he isn't disappointed. He feels a strange pulsating movement, followed by warm wetness and just from the way Grif goes slack he has a feeling that the older man wasn't far behind his climax. Staying in position for a moment longer, Matthews falls to the side with a huff at the strange sensation of come inside of him but he pulls close to Grif nonetheless.

“So I don't think I got the not going fast part right.”

The older man laughs, more than comfortable where he's laying, and pulls the other closer. “Yeah, well. That comes with practice.”

“You... Didn't last much longer than me, though, sir.”

“I'm fat I've got an excuse. You're all young and shit you've got time to last longer.”

Matthews huffs and just rolls his eyes. “Honestly I'm just glad you didn't call me Simmons again.”

“I was _sleeping_ , jackass. That's not a mistake I'll make twice. Besides you're coller than that asshole. At least you're kissing someone's ass that doesn't want to shoot you for everything you say.”

“Good one, sir.”

“Can it, ass kisser.”

Matthews laughs softly, feeling like he's more than likely in a dream but not caring. The night is still drawing to a close and he can feel sleep coming to him for the first time in a long while. Nuzzling his nose against Grif's shoulder, his eyes slip shut and he feels himself drifting off. Obviously he would have to deal with what had happened in the morning, but for now he was content to simply lay in the other's comforting warmth.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the world needs more of this ship okay


End file.
